


tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things

by gandalfspace



Category: Good Omens (TV), Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Heaven (Good Omens), Title from a Mountain Goats Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfspace/pseuds/gandalfspace
Summary: The Angel of Death is trying zir best.





	tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things

**Author's Note:**

> Thus continues my crack fics for wrangling purposes. Some Good Omens details have been fudged for Jewish reasons.

Everyone would agree that the Angel of Death was trying zir best.

The thing was that being the Angel of Death was quite difficult, and the role had been filled by different angels over the 5779 years that death had existed. Even HaSatan had done a stint, and it was the butt of more than one joke about it being a revolving door.

By this point, the position was impossible to fill because everyone knew the workload was a nightmare. For complicated reasons no one understood, the death records couldn't be digitised, so it was the only department that still ran on paper, as if it were run by Hell. (HaSatan had been involved in the digitisation of Heaven, of course, since ze split zir time between the two, but decided it was much funnier to keep paper. More than one decision HaSatan made was based on the rule of funny.)

All this is to say that the current angel of death was very bad at zir job but impossible to fire. A few thousand years into it ze still struggled to differentiate between humans with the same name, which was frustratingly common because humans had decided it was a great idea to name people after their own relatives. Some people had, intriguingly, realised that this was a particular weakness of the angel of death and had stopped naming babies after living relatives, but others had not been half as astute. 

This was how the Angel of Death came to hover slightly above the ground outside the Rogers Arena in Vancouver. If ze was deciphering the handwriting correctly (and everyone's handwriting had taken a nosedive now that everything else ran on computers, of course), the next job was a hockey player called Jack Hughes who would very shortly be having a heart attack. When ze had done a search for "ice hockey Jack Hughes", there had been not one, not two but _three_ results and ze had had to take a moment to send very rude thoughts on the direction of the entire human race.

The good news was that one of the Jack Hughes was already dead. Ze could remember it perfectly, in fact, because ze had been in a five-year-old child's room that had “Jack Hughes” in very messy handwriting on the door before ze decided to triple check that it really was a kid that had to die of a stroke. It had been a close call, but the Angel of Death was very proud of zirself that ze remembered to check.

Even immortal angels can learn new tricks.

Once the Angel of Death had eyes on Jack Hughes (and oh, how many eyes ze had), ze had the same hesitation as last time ze had killed a hockey-playing Jack Hughes. Was this 18-year-old child holding up a New Jersey Devils jersey for the photo opportunity really about to have a massive, fatal heart attack?

The Angel of Death double checked. The soon-to-no-longer-be Jack Hughes was born in Massachusetts. This Jack Hughes who was shaking several important hockey officials’ hands had been born in Florida.

Hockey-playing Jack Hughes mixups struck again.

The Angel of Death disappeared from Rogers Arena, thinking to zirself that ze would be able to boast about getting it completely right for the 1,352nd year in a row. All things considered, it was a pretty good streak, as long as you didn't think too hard about how many years came before it.


End file.
